Oh - please. And I thought Teacher Man was whiney. What a sour puss! What a lowly whiner. For god's sake man - you had a bad childhood - but this book seems like it was blurted out during therapy. Got tired of the driveling and complaining 30 pages in. Reminded me of my morbid aunt who relishes to tell us who's died and how bad they had it before ducking under.



Hopefully you've made a buck or two and now can afford an egg. I read the last few chapters stinking drunk on Guinness and Canadian Club as a tribute to Frankie’s father! “Oh – I promise to die for Ireland.” Wah wah.



I'm going to bury this disaster in my backyard. I don't want anyone finding it and ending up killing themselves. I'm an Irishman and I'll fight any man who tells me different!!!